Like We've Never had a broken Heart
by GlasgowGirl92
Summary: "Don't be afraid to close your eyes, Pretend I'm someone that you love and I won't have to tell you lies.'Cause it's not you I'm thinkin' of." They were just two lonely people, caught up in the same stream, fighting the same demons, just trying to pretend neither had had a broken heart. Linstead Mentions. T to be Safe.


A/N: Hello!

So, not only is this my first fic in a while, it's also my first in the Chicago PD universe. I've never been quite so nervous to post something, but I've taken the plunge. If you have any comments, reviews, pointers, anything at all, they're all absolutely appreciated!

This is based on a song called "Like We've Never had a broken Heart." by Tricia Yearwood and it was the only way I could write it. I ship Linstead so much, but there are too many amazing Linstead writers here, that I was worried I couldn't do the ship any justice.

Let me know what you think!

Kat

* * *

Like we've never had a broken heart.

"You sure it's a good move?" Al's usual quiet voice was even quieter in the space of Hank's office as he sat across the desk from him, both nursing a glass of amber liquid. It was well after everyone else had left; well, everyone else except for Detectives Jay Halstead and Ella Jude Jones, the latter had joined the unit on loan after Erin had taken the job in New York.

"Least I won't have to worry about in-house romance." Hank's voice was gruff, a hint of humour there with a trace of sadness. It had been hard for everyone watching Erin go, but it was harder to watch Jay _stay_. It was rough on the older man and the rest of the unit to watch him be first in and last out, to take all of the overtime going. His boyish smile never quite reaches his eyes anymore and his gaze never once faltered from the computer monitor or the board; wherein they once flickered between whatever he was doing and her desk.

Ruzek sat there now. Burgess had made herself at home at his desk; so, he'd settled in the vacant desk. The only time Halstead's eyes flicked over to the desk to see Adam sitting there, he'd wandered into the break room with the file and a pen and hadn't surfaced for an hour.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Plus, she's damn good police." Al conceded. "I'll see you tomorrow." He nodded at Voight and stood, draining his glass and making his way to the door, smiling softly at each of the remaining people in the bullpen as he made his way out.

"Jones." Hank called, he didn't have to raise his voice any level, not really, the silence coming from the bullpen was deafening, but it was also an unusual kind of silence; comfortable and comforting. Within a minute the young woman was leaning against his doorframe; a questioning look on her face, nodding once when Hank indicated for her to sit down.

He pushed the manila folder towards her and waited while she gave him a quizzical look before reaching out a well-manicured hand to pick up the file and leaf through the pages, a perfectly arched eyebrow was raised within seconds of her realising what it was. Her green eyes were filled with questions and she swallowed before licking her lips, eventually meeting his gaze.

"Sir," the Chicago native's soft voice punctured the thickening silence. "Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't. You earned your stripes." Hank reached for the glass that had been discarded by Al and held it up, grinning when the woman nodded, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, the thank you when he handed her the glass was almost whispered and he found himself smirking. Out in the field, he'd found, she was loud and brash and fitted right into intelligence, but she also carried a quiet strength with her, a vulnerability that had helped when they needed time sensitive information from the victims.

"Halstead, get in here." Voight's voice carried the firm authority, and within seconds the younger man was in the doorway. "I said in." Hank almost chuckled, reaching into the bottom drawer for another glass, pouring it and handing it to him.

"We celebrating?" he asked, perching on the desk, clear blue eyes moving between the two people.

"Makin' it official." Hank shrugged, reclining in his chair as Jay smiled, noticing it came a little easier for the first time in months.

"Nice job," Jay had turned his attention to the woman sitting quietly, cradling the glass.

"Thanks. I haven't actually said I'd take it." She fought the grin, her full lips slightly turned up at the corner, the neutral colour standing out against her alabaster skin. She looked more model than cop, it had worked for her in narcotics when it came to stings, but on a male oriented force, she'd fought to earn her stripes.

"It's a formality at this point." Hank stated, rolling a pen across the desk. "just needs to be signed."

"Walking away from narcotics is a big step." Jay shrugged, "You don't have to do it."

The air was thick again, heavy with the weight of unsaid truths and Jay held a hand up in way of apology, sinking the whiskey in one go.

"Yeah, I think I do." Jones spoke again, reaching for the pen and signing the relevant pages.

* * *

"Well, looks like we need into that ball," Burgess pointed out, earning sighs and groans from everyone in the room.

"I hate those things, they're so stuffy and formal." Ella-Jude Jones sighed and ran a hand through her unruly auburn curls, it took seconds for her to realize her mistake and drop her gaze to the floor, feeling all eyes in the room land on her.

"Do you make a habit of going to these things?" Ruzek asked, causing her to look up again.

"I show up at a couple of them a year. I used to go to more," she shrugged, "I'm waiting for the poor little rich girl comments again, I can take it." She half joked.

"Can you get us in?" Antonio asked, hands on his hips.

"I can get you in sure, security, catering. There's no way I can get in there, though." She added with a shrug. "Too many people know me."

"I sometimes forget you're the senator's kid. You're so _normal_." Burgess confessed, earning a few muttered comments and often shared jokes from the others.

"No, I think you should go in." Hank spoke up over the noise. "We need eyes, we need witnesses, we need something concrete or this guy is gonna walk."

"You want me in there as a guest? You want me to walk in there in full view of everyone and just start asking questions about missing girls?" Ella-Jude looked horrified at the prospect, her green eyes large in her face.

"Well, I was more thinking you and a plus one and maybe not being so obvious about it." Hank shrugged again. "You have less than 6 hours."

"Looks like I'm up," Attwater stood and grinned, "Gotta go get my suit an tie on."

"Slow down," Al held his hands up, "You're going in there, but not as EJ's plus one. We'll still need you to get us in other ways." He said slowly, deliberately, looking over to the woman who was standing and gathering some things.

"Sure, I'll make some calls and get back to you, I need to find me a dress." She stated, pulling her leather jacket on and waiting for the nod from Voight before she holstered her weapon.

"We meet back here in four hours to finalize the plan." Hank called after her as she waved him off, heading down the stairs.

* * *

It had been a while since she'd done this; the hair and the make-up, the gown. The scene wasn't her, not anymore. _Not since…_ Ella sighed out a breath as she exited the cab at the roll up, smiling at Dawson who looked smart in his suit as he opened the door for her and held out his hand to help her out. He was security. The ID badge on his top pocket and the earpiece already inserted in his ear.

"You look—"Dawson had started to say before another crude comment interrupted him, causing Ella to throw her head back in laughter and add an extra sway into her hips as she made her way into the room where the rest of the unit were gathered around the table, holding her arms out and doing a little turn.

"Well, will I do?" She asked, a chuckle still on her red painted lips. Her curls had been swept to one side, red form fitting gown with just a hint of sparkle clinging to her curves, a deep plunging neckline and a thigh high split leaving very little to the imagination.

"I jus gotta know where you weapon is." Attwater asked, looking just as smart in the suit that matched Antonio's, his ID badge also clipped onto the pocket, ear piece already in place.

"Many men have tried and failed to get an answer to that question." She winked at him, causing everyone else to laugh and joke as he exhaled loudly, muttering about women and cold showers. It was only then that she realized there was a member missing, only then did she realize that around the table were doormen, security, catering staff, even Al had a uniform on, Cloakroom attendant. But her plus one was missing.

The he walked in.

The same cocky swagger that he'd had since she first laid eyes on him, same kind of ownership of every and any room he walked into and she couldn't help but stare at just how good he looked in a tux. She'd seen him in suits before, but never like this. He joined them at the table and she could hear her heart hammering in her head as she looked him over, managing to make a fly away comment about how he'd _just have to do_ and _needs must_. His grin was enough to deflect the attention back to the task at hand and the plan. But it wasn't clear blue eyes and freckles that had her breathless, for a second his shoulders were wider, eyes were a deep brown and his hair was long and floppy.

* * *

Ella distracted herself by looking down at the floor plans, willing her knees not to give out and the darkness not to engulf her. It was just a charity gala. It was fine. They'd be in and out in a few hours maximum and she could go home and get into her sweats.

Jay had gotten downstairs right as Ella had been getting out of the cab and it had stopped him in his tracks. He'd never seen her in anything other than the jeans and shirts she wore; polished and put together but still unwaveringly cop-casual and practical. She'd been the breath of fresh air the unit had needed since… he shook his head. He'd been doing better lately. He'd found putting one foot in front of the other and moving forward was becoming slightly easier now that he was six months deep into the routine. Even Voight had stopped asking if he was good. Everyone had just gotten into their own little ways of moving forward and he had had to accept that.

It had taken her almost a month to text him after she'd left; something about the Hawkes game and it had left him breathless and awake the whole night; something innocent. It took him days to recover from that and the subsequent conversation and while he was happy to know she was good and happy, it burned him in ways he thought he'd been healing from. All he'd ever wanted was for her to be happy, he'd left so he wouldn't hurt her anymore but in the end, it had led to him getting the short end of the stick and feeling raw, broken and raw, months later.

Which is why he'd taken a minute when he saw Ella; she was the epitome of beauty and elegance and he knew she'd be the one in the room that caught all the attention, a small slither of pride making its way through the pain of having a woman like her on his arm, even if it was only for tonight. He shook his head at the thought. You can't put a band aid on a bullet hole and expect it to hold.

As he walked into the room and felt those green eyes on him, wishing they were hazel the only source of comfort he could take in that moment was he'd finally found someone who understood what he was feeling; someone who never asked how he felt, nor judged when he stayed a little later in the bullpen or wandered off at Molly's when things got loud. Someone who appreciated the silences in the car, who never questioned his need to drive and who ultimately had his back without knowing the full story.

He'd done the same for her, recognized the same shadows and sadness in her eyes as he undoubtedly had in his. It seemed to go deeper for her; though, and one day he'd ask but today was not the day and tonight was not the night.

"So, room 304 has been booked for you two, plenty of space for you both. The luggage you're taking in is a lot of listening equipment, however, we'll spell stake out duties." Dawson explained, piercing Jay's thoughts. "Real simple, dinner, auction, dancing, then back to the room."

"We won't be tuned in?" Jay asked, looking around the various bits and pieces on the desk; the different bugs and then back up to the look shared by Hank and Al.

"No, it'll blow your cover. Ella is going in as herself, Jay. We can't have anyone thinking she's actually working that room. We'll be around, we'll get to you if we need to. But you're on your own in there." Al explained softly, looking between the two detectives in question. Jay noticed the apprehension on her face and reached over, nudging her, the heat of her skin searing through his hand. She obviously felt it, too. The shadows darkening in her eyes, a sigh parting her lips before she covered it up quickly, batting her eyelashes at him.

"My hero." She sighed again, feigning a faint, causing a few chuckles.

"Gear up," Voight announced with a slap on Jay's shoulder, creating a flurry of activity.

* * *

Ella had not missed this. This pretentious chatter, discussing her father's office and her brother's career overseas in Afghanistan. She talked about doing desk work in the district, talked about how boring administration was. She'd made small talk all the way through dinner, noticing just how charming Jay could be. They'd long been given the signal that every bug had been planted and they could bail at any time, but somehow she found herself staying put. Dinner and the auction was over and as much as she hated the small talk, she'd enjoyed the company immensely. Jay was brilliant and witty. He was sharp, but also strong and reserved and it hadn't gone unnoticed by other women in the room.

She licked her lips as she tried to focus on what the business man in front of her was saying, but Jay's hand was warm at the base of her spine and while she was aware that it hadn't been that long since she'd had a man's hand on her bare skin, it was a distraction. Her thoughts began to distance her from the conversation and the man on her left who was now carrying this conversation. She couldn't help but think of the cookout on the fourth of July, some of the units had gotten together and it had been loud and fun and fantastic. _He'd_ been there. It had been _his_ hands on her skin and not Jay's and it wasn't until she felt Jay's hand cup her hip did she realize that she was miles and miles away and her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.

"Would you excuse us, sir?" Jay's voice was respectful as he interrupted the man, "But this song is, you know, _our song_ and I'd really like to get her on the floor for this." He hadn't even waited for an answer before Ella felt herself being led away from the man, onto the middle of the floor and into the embrace of strong arms. She was closer than she'd like to be, but in that moment, it was apparent that she was closer than either of them wanted to be, or needed to be.

She had so many things she had wanted to say as they swayed to the music, but she settled on saying nothing and allowing herself to be moved by him; to be pulled into his orbit, to allow him to give her that out, that maybe this was a different time and a different place and he wasn't Jay and she wasn't Ella and this wasn't some ridiculously elaborate plan at catching a killer.

* * *

She had been close to hyperventilating when he'd stopped her talking to the head of some dumb corporation; he'd noticed the same reactions in himself from a long time ago, the same way he'd react when things got a little close for comfort or he'd have a nightmare. He did what he had to do to get her out of the situation but only now, holding her this close, in the middle of the floor, swaying to a Sinatra number, did his idea seem like a bad one.

They were surrounded by the who's who of Chicago, Ella's own parents were somewhere in the room, not to mention their entire unit watching them take this unprecedented move. There was no need for them to be where they were, but it felt like the right thing to do in the moment and even if she was a little taller, a little softer, a little more polished than the woman he wanted, part of Jay had to admit how nice it was to be holding someone this close.

She smelled like vanilla and peppermint, her head didn't quite fit under his chin like _hers_ did, but it was a welcome weight against his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck before she turned her head to look out at the room. Her grip on his hand was confident, practised, same with the way her hand rested on his shoulder. This was something she was used to; her steps were perfect and graceful but there was something missing. She had the rhythm but not his rhythm and while it worked, it wasn't perfect. It wasn't home. It wasn't Erin.

The sound of her name in his head had him gripping onto EJ tighter, causing her to raise her head, Jay's ocean blue gaze meeting her forest green one, the same desperation, same pain shining back at him. He wasn't the only one feeling this tidal wave of grief, of loss. He wasn't the only one who needed the routine to keep him moving forward.

He didn't know her full story, only that the space that Rixton took on Narcotics wasn't a voluntary post, wasn't a post that was vacated through choice. All Jay knew was the woman in his arms had jumped at the chance to leave narcotics and join Intelligence the second she was asked. She ran from the post with the same speed Jay had started running at in the mornings, especially when it came to running past her apartment.

He could barely breathe as he looked at her; the heartbreak etched on every single one of her perfect features and Jay knew if he let his guard down any further, she'd see the same on his. Or maybe she already could, because there was a sad smile on her lips and he was leaning in to meet her as she tilted her head up.

There was an understanding, then. A moment between them. A clarity that neither had felt in months. She wasn't Erin. She never would be, but as their lips touched, it didn't matter in that moment. Nothing else did. Not what had happened in the past, not what would happen in the future but what was happening in that moment and how comforted he felt in that moment.

* * *

The kiss was nothing more than an innocent brush of lips, her hand moved from his shoulder to his neck, gently tracing his jaw as they pressed their lips together, two broken people caught up in a moment of relief. Ella knew this wasn't the best idea; the last time she had had the bright idea of kissing her partner on an undercover sting to not draw attention had left her in this position. The hot sting of tears pressed at her eyelids, desperate for release, but she focused on the softness of his lips against his, the way he angled his head, the feel of his hand gently caressing her skin on her back.

He wasn't Jack. He never would be, but as Jay pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, she knew that it was okay. This didn't have to be perfect; it didn't have to be real. It just _was._ She knew about Erin, knew about her and Jay being something special. Knew she'd left. But that was it; she didn't need to know more, didn't really want to know more than that. It was none of her business.

Jay's breathing was somewhat ragged on her lips as she opened her eyes and smiled softly as she watched how his eyelashes were fanned across his freckled cheeks. Ella rested both hands on his jaw, caressing his cheeks to silently ask him to open his eyes and look at her. She barely managed to conceal the gasp of shock at the sheer amount of pain seen in his eyes, the shadows dancing behind them. She smiled softly, eventually finding her voice.

"Thank you." She whispered, allowing herself to pretend that when he pulled her closer he was someone else, knowing that he was also doing the same.

"You're welcome," his voice was rough, laced with something she couldn't pinpoint and she smiled again, the song slowly coming to an end and blending into another one and his grip didn't lessen, and neither did hers; neither one of them willing to be the first one to break the spell, to let go.

Ella knew, deep down, they had to break whatever spell was weaving, but this was the first time she'd felt something other than sadness or anger in a long time and she would hold onto that for as long as possible. Jay? He seemed just as content to hold onto her and occasionally press his lips against hers or against her temple as one song melted into two, which melted into three.

They were both just two lonely souls, swimming against the same current, fighting the same demons, pretending like neither one had had a broken heart.


End file.
